


Filex Abernathy

by WhiteNightsClearSkies



Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band), TWRPsona - Fandom
Genre: Backstory, OC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-03-31
Packaged: 2019-04-16 08:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14160417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteNightsClearSkies/pseuds/WhiteNightsClearSkies
Summary: Filex doesn't think the day can get better than this. Well, in actuality, it gets worse.





	Filex Abernathy

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little bit of backstory for my discord family. They wanted some angst so here it is. Enjoy
> 
> Big 'ol Fat Disclaimer: The songs I used in the beginning and end are SufJan Stevens songs! The first one is "Blue Bucket of Gold" and the last one is "The Owl and the Tanager." I do NOT own them! Thanks!

_Search for things to extol_

_Friend, the fables delight me_

_My blue bucket of gold_

_Lord, touch me with lightning_

 

* * *

 

Filex was just walking up to his front door when it hits. _The funk._

 

For now, he’s bobbing his head to a song on the “Earth Tunes” radio. It’s surprisingly sad to him, although he can’t really understand what the artist is saying. Earth is a very reclusive planet; Any outside races and spaceships trying to come in are turned around on-sight. They don’t teach their Terran children the Universal language and it’s Terrans don’t really know about the vastness of the space around them. He could understand trying to secure the safety of the planet but being that protective over such a small thing as the minds of the Earthlings is honestly over-doing it.

 

But who was he to judge? He was only the young age of thirty-four. Seventeen by Earth standards.

 

He hummed along to the song as he turned a corner down another street. His dark blue wings moved with the idle breeze, lifting him off his feet for a millisecond before delivering him back to his rightful place on the sidewalk, adding a skip to his step. He smiles at the semi-clear, light purple sky, the big moon on the horizon an imposing, yet calming force. He was having a good day.

 

He could just see his house on the horizon now. The green shingles shining infinitely brighter against the sky. The rust colored grass clashing against the red dirt. He waved to a little girl and her brother, their faces and little hands smudged red from rolling around in the grass. They giggle and wave back excitedly, shouting his name in childish glee. He smiles warmly at them, but speeds up at the sight of his little house.

 

Little because the only one who lived there was himself and his mother. Little because his mother insisted on a small house even though she made enough money weekly to get a house on the bigger spectrum. Little because nowadays, it was like he lived there alone with how often his mother stayed late nights on overtime. Although he loved his mother, he wished he could see her more often. Talk more often.

 

But now wasn’t the time to be thinking about things like that. Today his mother would get home “early” as she put it. Early to her was before 2 am. He’d initially “rolled his eyes” at this. At least, he liked to think he did. The only thing he really did was twitch his antennae in annoyance and shrug, though he did welcome a nice change in pace. His mother would hopefully make dinner for him instead of him making his own dinner and eating at an empty table.

 

He was just unlocking the knob to his front door when the soil began to turn, shaking his house and the childrens’ toys in the surrounding yards. His wings flailed in surprise, bringing him into the air with practiced ease.

 

He watches red dirt and the cement path to his front door turn and lift, the thunderous sound of it unsettling him. When he finds the ground stable enough, he lands lightly. The exact moment his sneaker-clad feet touch the ground, his communicator beeps. The ringtone for his mother plays, another Earthen song cutting through the silence of the street. At least the children were in their house, hopefully safe.

 

He answers the call with a movement from an antennae, his mother’s frantic yet calm voice startling him. “Mom?” He asks, finally unlocking the door and stepping into the foyer of his home.

 

“Filex? I need you to go to Karen’s.” Filex raises an eyebrow, dropping his bag unceremoniously against the stairs. He turns right, into the kitchen, going to grab a snack. “Why? Is it because of that quake earlier? Don’t those happen sometimes though?” He stops in his tracks when he hears his mother yelling. He flinches, turning around to go up the stairs as she reprimands him.

 

_"No,Filex! They don’t just happen!_ If you’re home, get upstairs and pack your clothes. As many as you can carry. We’re going off planet.”

 

Filex breathes out shakily. This was obviously more serious that he thought it was going to end up being. He says an okay to his mother while she asks if he knows the way to Karen’s house, a trusted family friend and coworker to his mom. He’s been there a million times. Karen’s daughter, Megan, was basically his best friend. They had a luxurious place. It was big and spacious and Filex often felt too small there. 

 

Flex packs a larger suitcase that’s fairly easy to carry and dumps the school books out of his satchel, the books thumping against the carpeted floor. Compared to the silence, the thumps are jarring. Why is it so silent? By the time he gets ready to take flight and move on to Ms. Karen’s house, he’s practically worrying himself to death. Is Mom okay? Is the planet okay? He stands on his front porch, looking out over the rolling hills and desert. What was going to happen to his beautiful home? What was going to happen to him?

 

 

Filex gathers his strength in a deep, steadying breath. It would be okay. He’d fly to Karen’s, get off planet, and all would be well. He mutters a quick prayer to the Roman God Mercury, praying for his own quick arrival and quick departure. He beat his wings once, twice, then he was off. He pulled the suitcase into his chest as he flew, knowing the way by heart, not really having to check if he was going the right way.

 

He looked out over the horizon, seeing fire. Fire? There were pillars of smoke rising in the distance and the usual purple sky was streaking with red. Now that he really focused, he could hear them. His people, screaming. He could hear children crying, mothers calling for their babies. He could see ships leaving. He watched one in particular blast across the sky. It didn’t look like it was from here and it flew like someone wasn’t completely sane. A figure in red flew after it, faster than he’d ever seen anyone fly. Was that the Lord?

 

From the corner of his eye, Filex sees a house front coming at him fast. He pulls up and back, trying to come to a stop. His forehead hits one of the windows and he groans, hitting the ground hard and putting a hand to his head. It’s not bleeding but with how hard his head is pounding, he doesn’t want to fly and get himself even more hurt. And so, he resigns himself to walking.

 

It's going well for the first couple of blocks but as he begins to near the inner-city, things start to fall apart.

 

**_Literally._ **

 

The planet’s crust falls inward in some place. There are people stumbling around looking for their loved ones. And worst of all, there’s funk. There are people crazed with it, going insane off of it. He steers clear of these people, running if need be. He’d only seen these kinds of things in movies. Only learned about it briefly in Science class. Funk like this was deadly to the planet. Is this why the quake happened earlier? Didn’t his own mother work in the city?

 

He’s almost to Karen’s when he sees him. A man laughing and singing, obviously under the influence of funk. He steers clear, as always, but this time he's caught. The man turns abruptly and Filex’s fears are made real. It’s his father.

 

“Father?” Filex takes cautious steps back as the man moves forward. He laughs again, an awful sound. He sounded like a demon. Filex hasn’t seen his father since he was young, barely old enough to fly or even think about flying. His mother and father split because his father was doing things he shouldn’t be doing. He was smuggling. Smuggling goods off-planet, goods on-planet. He was being a danger to the family and especially to his mother’s career. So, his mother kicked him out. Now with him standing in front of Filex, blocking his way, Filex trembled.

 

He’d always been afraid of his father but now with him dangerous and crazed, Filex has more than one reason to be afraid. Filex’s father, Arese, chuckles, closing Filex into a corner. “You were always so afraid. Always such a wimp,” Filex tries to slip sideways, tries to beat his wings to make him move faster but his father grabs a wing, tugging painfully. Filex shouts, spasming and falling to the ground. “What a pathetic son of mine.”

 

Filex wasn’t much of a crier, een as a kid. Arese takes advantage of Filex’s downed form, sitting on his legs so that he can’t get away. “Son of mine? What was I thinking? You’re not mine until these are gone,” Filex shakes his head, tears streaming down his face. “No..”

 

“Did I ask you to talk?” His father shouts. Then Filex is screaming, a world-shattering thing that’s made worse with the fateful sound of paper tearing, skin separating. Filex claws at the ground, kicks his legs, tries all he can to get away to no avail. His father cackles, throwing a transparent wing into Filex’s field of vision. Filex’s entire back is alight with fire. Searing, white-hot pain spreading up and down his spine. Filex convulses, feeling bile rise up his throat. Then he emptying the contents of his stomach onto his own face, chin, the street.

 

“How will you fly now, little bird?

 

His mother always called him that. " _Go on, Filex! Don’t be afraid, little bird! The drop isn’t that high!”_

 

His mother, where was she? Was she safe? He gazed at his mutilated wing, its sheen and glittery surface now opac and dull. Would he ever be able to fly again? Another wave of tears blur his vision and he closes his eyes. He wants to sleep. This was a dream, anyway. When you go to sleep in dreams, you wake up in the real world, right? Dreams aren’t reality, right?

 

**_Right?_ **

 

**_He wasn’t quick enough, huh?_ **

 

* * *

 

_And all I was wrong trembling in the cage_

_I was diamonds in the cage_

_In seven hours I consider death_

_And your father called to yell at me_

_You little boy, **you little boy**_

 

 

 


End file.
